Life After Death
by Seryan Parks
Summary: In which Reiner has a son.
1. Chapter 1

In which Reiner has a son and I refuse to acknowledge Bertolt's death.

"They should move in with us." Milla told her husband, crossing her arms over her pregnant belly.

"Hmm?" Bertolt replied distractedly, cleaning his blades. "Who, dear?"

"Reiner and his son."

"Milla…" Bertolt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We've asked, and Reiner refused. He wants to stay in his own house."

"And you know as well as I do how that'll work out. Since Krista died, he mopes and drinks and mopes some more. His son is an infant, Bertolt. The boy needs mother's milk to make him strong. Don't tell me that Reiner is feeding him goat's milk still."

"All right, I won't tell you."

"Bertolt!" Milla screeched.

Bertolt threw the newly cleaned blade on the floor, and the brittle steel snapped. "I have been trying, Milla. Gods know I have. But how can I help Reiner if he doesn't want to be helped?"

Bertolt knew the answer his headstrong wife would give. "You help him whether he wants it or not, because he's too damned thick to see that he needs help!" Milla shouted. "Gods be good, I'll do it myself!"

With that, Milla stormed out the door, her curly brown locks bouncing along behind her. "Dammit. Milla, wait up!" Bertolt shouted, running after her.

Milla fairly knocked the door down, Bertolt close behind. "Reiner Braun!" she shouted, planting herself in the doorway. "What, in the name of all that is holy, have you been doing?"

Reiner was sitting in the rocking chair in his and Krista's bedroom, bottle in hand. He was much thinner than he was when Milla last saw him. His son was asleep on the bed, while the stray cat Krista had loved was lapping milk out of a shallow pan. "Morning, Milla."

"It's midafternoon, Reiner." Bertolt informed his friend.

Reiner shrugged. "Afternoon, then."

Milla then did what she did best- she took charge. She scooped up the baby and sniffed his bottom. "Gods be good, Reiner. Have you ever diapered this poor boy? No, don't tell me." She set about undoing the cloth around the infant's body and cleaned up the mess that was there.

Bertolt went up to Reiner and kneeled by the rocking chair. "How have you been?" he asked.

Reiner shrugged, his broad shoulders sagging. "The same. I guess." He took another swig out of the bottle. Bertolt snatched it away, and seeing that it was nearly empty, finished the whiskey off and tossed it into the pile of bottles in the corner. It landed with the crash of shattering glass.

"Reiner, it's been three weeks now. I understand that you miss Krista-" Bertolt began, but Reiner interrupted him.

"Don't tell me to move on, Bertolt," he growled. "Not again. You don't know what it's like-"

"-to lose someone I love? The hell I don't, Reiner," Bertolt shot back, his patience, which had been stretching thin for weeks, finally snapped. "Do you rememeber what happened to our village, all those years ago? Do you remember what happened to Milla last year? She was in that accident, and miscarried the baby. Our first baby. I thought I would lose her, too. So don't tell me I don't know what grief is."

"Get out." Reiner barked. The cat, unnerved by the sudden noise, bristled and ran away. "I want both of you gone. Now."

Bertolt was about to retort, but Milla beat him to it. "We all want things, Reiner. I want my firstborn alive and well. I want my father to hold his first grandchild. I want Krista alive again so maybe you will stop acting like a drunken sod and start acting like a man again!" The boy in her arms stirred a little at her outburst, and she cooed at him before continuing in a calmer tone of voice. "If you want to act like a baby, Reiner, then gods help me I will treat you like one. Now this is what will happen. You will come and live with Bertolt and me until such time as you can pull yourself together and care for your son. This is not an option." She finished firmly.

Reiner sulked, more than a little ashamed that a woman two feet shorter and a good hundred pounds lighter than him was scolding him like a naughty child. He finally looked at Bertolt, who was watching Milla with the baby boy.

"Dammit, Bertolt. Out of all the women out there, you had to marry Keith Shadis' daughter."

Bertolt smiled a little at the baby in his wife's arms. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."


	2. Chapter 2

Moving Reiner into his home was easier than Bertolt had expected. It seemed that Milla had sufficiently shamed Reiner into submission, and Bertolt couldn't say he blamed him. Milla could be quite forceful when she wanted to be. And if I was raised by Keith Shadis, I probably would be, too. Thank the gods that I wasn't.

Reiner hadn't brought much. He spent most of his hours in the room Milla and Bertolt had set aside for him, holding his son. Reiner didn't say much, he didn't do much, and Bertolt personally made sure that he wouldn't be able to drink anything stronger than water, but Reiner didn't eat or drink, either. Bertolt hated to admit it, but the truth couldn't be denied. His best friend was a broken man.

Reiner displayed a reasonable amount of shock, however, when Milla plucked his son from his lap and attatched him to a breast for feeding. "Don't look at me like that," Milla scolded, balancing Reiner's son on her own baby bump. "Your son and mine will be milk brothers. Did you think that I would have Krista's son raised on goat's milk?"

"Hadn't really thought about it," Reiner admitted. His voice was rougher than usual as he made so little use of it lately. He dutifully averted his gaze.

"You know what else you haven't thought about? A name. Your child needs name." Bertolt piped up from the kitchen, where he was finishing a third helping of Milla's corn mash. "We can't keep on calling him 'the boy' forever. I nominate Bertolt Junior."

A glimmer of the old Reiner shined through as he replied, "Name your own son Bertolt Junior."

"No." Milla insisted. "If we have a boy, we're naming him after my father, and if we have a girl, we're naming her Hannah."

"That is what we agreed on," Bertolt conceded. "So it falls on you to continue the glorious name of Bertolt."

Reiner watched as Milla and Bertolt went about their life, talking, teasing, just enjoying each other. It was so similar to the life he and Krista had shared, but now he was on the outside looking in. Milla and Bertolt made every effort to take him and his son into their family, but Reiner couldn't help but feel out of place.

He and Krista hadn't thought about names, not really. They had just been excited to finally, finally, be parents and just assumed they'd get to the name later, but Krista's pregnancy was a difficult one, and only an emergency C-section and a batallion of midwives had saved her and their baby. But despite their efforts, Krista died only days after giving birth, as an infection she'd contacted after the birth spread to her heart. They'd never decided on a name.

"... I always liked the name Dirk…" he muttered. "I suppose that would be all right..."

"Did you hear that, honey?" Milla cooed to the infant. "Your name is Dirk."

Dirk immediately spat up some milk on Milla's apron and blue dress. She just laughed and wiped the gunk off. Bertolt laughed, and finally, hesitantly, Reiner joined them.


	3. Chapter 3

"Reiner, come here," Milla ordered. Baby Dirk was lying on a blanket in the kitchen, naked as the day he was born, and bawling for all he was worth. "Why do you think little Dirk is crying?"

Reiner considered this. "Is he hungry?"

"Try again."

"...He's wet himself?"

"Closer. He's shat himself. Reiner, have you ever changed his diaper cloths?" Milla demanded.

Reiner was indignant. "Of course I have." Maybe he hadn't been quite himself since Krista died, but he'd at least tried to take care of their child.

"Prove it." Milla crossed her arms over her hugely pregnant belly, and Reiner was reminded that soon Dirk would have a little playmate.

Reiner knelt next to his son and went about his business. He lifted up Dirk by one leg, ignoring Milla's gasp, and quickly wiped Dirk's bottom and slid a new cloth underneath, and tied the cloth with a pin.

Bertolt clapped, leaning in the kitchen doorway. Reiner hadn't noticed he was there. "Nice, Reiner. You'll have to teach me how to do that."

Little Dirk was still fussy, so Reiner picked him up.

"Not so rough," Milla cautioned.

"It's fine, Milla," Bertolt put in. "Babies are tougher than they look." He leaned over Reiner's shoulder and peeked at Dirk. "He looks like you." he commented.

"He looks like a potato," Reiner replied. "All round and lumpy."

"Then he's an exceptionally good-looking potato. He must have gotten it from Krista, 'cause gods know he didn't get it from you." Bertolt tried to joke, but even as he said it he knew that Reiner wasn't ready for it.

What might have become an awkward situation was fortunately averted by a knock on the door. Milla rushed to answer it, and flung the door open. "Come in, Doctor."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hoover. Nice to see you, Bertolt," greeted Eren Yeager. "You as well, Reiner."

Since the Titan war had ended some years before, Eren decided to follow in his father's footsteps and become a doctor. This was the first time that Reiner had seen Eren as Doctor Yeager. It was quite a transformation. Eren had put on height since Reiner had last seen him, and his hair was cut short. A pair of spectacles peeked out of the brown suit's breast pocket, and he sported a wisp of a moustache, as if unsure of whether he would keep it or not. Eren removed his hat and coat, and opened his black bag.

"Milla, if I may see your belly?" Eren asked. Milla obliged, and Eren put a stethoscope to her stomach and listened. He gently probed the belly, and the baby within kicked in response. "The child seems to be in fine health," Eren declared. "I trust you've been eating plenty of protein, dark meat?"

"Yes."

"Have you had any alcohol?"

"No."

"Excellent, excellent," Eren murmured as he made notes on a clipboard. "Have you experienced any contractions?"

"None yet, but I think they'll be coming soon." Milla answered, rubbing her belly.

"I agree. I fully expect there will be another Hoover within a week. My father used to say, 'the blessed event approaches.'" Eren smiled.

"Speaking of fathers, I'd better send for mine," Milla chirped. "I don't want him to miss this!" Eren, Reiner, and Bertolt shuddered at the mention of Keith Shadis, which Milla either missed or ignored.

"Yeah, he'll definitely want to be here." Bertolt remarked nervously. "Wonderful."

"Now, Reiner," Eren quickly changed the subject, "could I take a look at your son? Dirk, I believe."

Reiner, still holding Dirk, gently handed him over to Eren. "My, don't you look like your father." Eren remarked. "How old is he, about four weeks?"

"Four weeks and three days," Reiner promptly answered.

"Good," Eren replied. He waved his hand in front of Dirk's face, and Dirk moved his head to watch. "That's good, it means that his eyeball muscles are developing. And see, here he's looking at my face. Babies likes faces, though they can't see that well yet. And he's clutching my shirt, that means that his reflexes are good. When did the umbilical cord stump come off?"

Reiner thought a moment. "Seventeen days, I think."

"Wonderful. He eats regularly?"

"Oh yes," Milla replied. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll have enough milk for two!"

"That shouldn't be a problem, Milla. As long as you're feeding the babies, your body will continue to produce milk."

"Uhm, Eren?" Reiner asked. "Dirk is kinda small."

"Most babies are," Eren replied, as sarcastic as ever.

"No, I mean is he smaller than he ought to be?"

"Hmm. Does he spit up much after he eats?"

"Sometimes," Milla answered, "but not very much."

"Then I think he's keeping enough down to gain weight. Don't worry, Reiner. Dirk is a healthy baby."

"That's good." Reiner couldn't think of anything else to say. "That's good."

"Now, I do have a few words of caution." Eren began, stroking Dirk's hair. "Don't look at me like that, it's nothing serious. In the next few weeks, Dirk will become more active. Right now, he's fully alert and awake maybe one hour out of ten. Soon he'll be alert the majority of the time, and he'll be able to express pleasure by smiling. Real smiles, mind you, not just reflexes." Here Dirk tried to eat Eren's hand. "And he'll start putting things in his mouth."

"I should probably store my anti-Titan weapons somewhere else, then." Bertolt quipped.

Eren chuckled. "Yeah, do that. But let him suck on some things, that's part of how he learns where his body ends and the world begins. And, Reiner," Eren was his height now, and looked him in the eyes, " I can't stress this enough. Watch him. Falling is normal, but his body's no fully developed yet, so you have to watch him. Babies tend to roll off beds and tables, or if they're sitting they can grab nearby objects and flip over. If he falls, call me, because there could be internal damage. Got it?"

"He'll be active, maybe fall off things, call you," Reiner summarized. "Watch him."

"Great." Eren returned Dirk to his father, then donned his hat and coat. "I'll check back in two days, Milla, but if contractions begin before then I'm staying at that inn Morgan Kursch runs."

"Thanks, Eren," Bertolt called.

"Anytime, friend."


End file.
